To live now or to live in the future.

Sunday, October 4

Year A, Proper 22, RCL, Track 1

Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20Psalm 19Philippians 3:4b-14Matthew 21:33-46

Jesus finds himself in trouble once again for telling the truth; a truth that the leadership does not want to hear. This week, I ask again: who are we in this parable? Are we the landowner, one of the servants, or his son? Or are we one of the tenant farmers? This choice seems a bit more clear than last week. If we dissect this story, some of us might identify with the landowner. After all, the landowner is attempting to collect what is rightfully his. But he also sends his son, all by himself, to these tenants who have already acted violently towards his previous messengers? In reality, I think few of us would do such a thing. At least I cannot imagine sending one of my children into such a deadly situation.

We have two choices left. Few of us would want to identify with the tenant farmers. They are reaping their rewards but not giving their share to the one with whom they made an agreement. They are taking proceeds by literally mistreating others. They feel entitled to take what they want without regard to who or what gets hurt in the process.

The third choice is to be a sheep sent to the wolves. This takes devotion to the one who sends you. It takes a bit of courage. And you don’t know if you will come out alive. There may not seem to be a good option here. To kill or be killed. To live now or to live in the future.

When we look at this parable from this perspective, we clearly understand why the leadership wants to kill Jesus. He says, You are the ones who killed the servants of God—a true statement. The leadership over the centuries killed almost every prophet, or messenger from God, in the Bible. The prophets spoke against human desires for self-importance, greed, and using others to build wealth.

Our reality may not be so clear-cut. We may not always be willing to fight the righteous cause of Christ. And we may not always abuse others through established systems. I believe we are here because we know we are not perfect. We know we have things to repent. And we also have things to celebrate. We are here because we want to please our Lord. We want to learn from our mistakes; we want to heal from our pain; we want to live and not die as we do the best we can in the harsh surroundings that we call the World.

Saint Paul knows this feeling all too well. He says, “If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.”

Like the men Jesus is speaking to, Paul was blameless under the law, following the Ten Commandments as well as other Jewish laws. But the law is not perfect. It can be bent to the people's will, often bending toward the powerful, at the expense of the poor. Even though Paul was perfect under the law, after he persecuted the followers of Christ and found Christ within himself, he realized that the law is imperfect. One who is regulated by the law may find themselves out of touch with its overarching meaning. They use loopholes and their personal interpretation for their benefit. God's law gives us an outline for how to live in community with one another. It’s a guide, a good guide, but as with many good things, it can also be used like a weapon.

This is not God’s intent. As the Hebrew people know and as Christ teaches us, the law is summed up in loving God and loving neighbor. It is taking ourselves out of the equation and focusing our attention on these two things. Because of Christ, Paul has “suffered the loss of all things.” The loss of his family, his job, and the security of living as a privileged person in the community. Yet he says all these good things are rubbish, for it is not the righteousness that I receive from the law, but the righteousness “that comes through faith in Christ…from God.”

Paul led the church in Philippi, Corinth, Rome, Ephesus, and more. People see him as a great leader, a spiritual leader, and a prophet. Most people in his shoes would say, “I have arrived!” I’m at the top. But Paul does not see his life this way. I have not obtained this; I have not reached the goal. He says I have not made it, but the one thing I do is forget what lies behind as I strain forward to what lies ahead. “I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ.” Paul, like many leaders of today, says we cannot dwell on our past mistakes; we need to forget that and move forward. This letting go of the past comes directly from our repentance and Christ's forgiveness of our sins.

I feel deeply connected to this imagery of straining ahead and living a life that is not completely comfortable but pushes me into an unknown future. This straining is physical. Our bodies do not react to our desires as they once did. But this straining is also knowing that God has more for us to accomplish. We have more to do in our work to bring the Kingdom of Heaven into this world. This work, like any team, relies on all of us. Even with our star player, Jesus Christ, the team doesn't function well unless we are all heading toward the goal.

All this takes energy. It takes telling others of your faith. It takes holding up the righteousness of Christ and serving others, even when we may feel like the goal is moving farther away rather than closer.

I will leave you with a short passage from Thomas Merton’s Thoughts in Solitude.

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude. (New York: Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1956, 1958), p.79.